


One Way Forward

by KikyoShotFirst



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Short, marcy deserves better, rebuilding sanctuary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 11:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikyoShotFirst/pseuds/KikyoShotFirst
Summary: The first time she saw him, she knew she wouldn’t like him one bit. When he came through the door where they were holed up in Concord he’d had his arms crossed, his eyes cold and assessing like he’d walked into a business deal instead of saving a group of half dead minutemen.





	One Way Forward

    The first time she saw him, she knew she wouldn’t like him one bit. When he came through the door where they were holed up in Concord he’d had his arms crossed, his eyes cold and assessing like he’d walked into a business deal instead of saving a group of half dead minutemen. She’d never seen anyone so tall and muscular in her life- he had a body that had known no starvation. And he had a sneer, a way of looking down at the others who were thin and racked with famine. He was beautiful, too. Like he was too good to be real and he knew it.

    He helped them, though. Even though it was clear he was reluctant. Didn’t want to get his vault suit dirty helping out a lost cause, most likely. Still. He led them to Sanctuary, and Marcy didn’t speak up because it was the first time in weeks that the look of defeat left Preston’s eyes.

    Eventually he agreed to become the new General, after much pleading from Preston. Marcy didn’t think he’d stick around, and for a while it seemed like she was right. He came back though, for small amounts of time at first and then for longer. He swaggered around like he owned the place, and as much as she hated to admit it, in all respects he probably did. He’d started building barriers, planting food, and ordering people around.

    He’d approached her a couple times, but she’d told him off the same way she told off anyone who came offering false sympathies. He hadn’t been around to help during Quincy, hadn’t been there to stop those raiders from killing her son. His words didn’t mean a damn thing to her now. The General backed off after that, and Marcy thought it a small mercy that at least he had the decency to not push boundaries. She’d still see him around, though. Preston had taken a shine to the man, and even if Marcy didn’t like the General it was easy to see why- he had limitless charm and a smile that could make even the coldest of hearts beat a little faster. Marcy didn’t trust him even a little bit, but she had to admit Preston seemed happier with him around. She felt like talking some sense into him, telling him the new General wasn’t liable to stick around, that he couldn’t afford to trust an outsider. But even she could tell they needed hope more than anything these days.

    He came around one day and was hanging around the workshop. He was sorting out the junk he’d picked up in the wastes, stuff that looked like garbage but probably had some practical purpose. When he saw her come out of the house he locked eyes with her and motioned her over. She scowled. If he had some dumb chore for her to do, he was going to get an earful. But when she made her way over to him he’d pulled out a bundle of thick black cloth, and a laser rifle. He set them on the workbench and stepped aside, leaning against the wall and regarding her calmly.

    “There. What do you think?” He motioned to the two objects.

    “What do I think about what?” Marcy said, annoyed.

    “They’re yours,” he said, almost smiling. “If you want ‘em that is.”

    Marcy took the cloth bundle in her hands, unfolded it. It was a full body coat, padded and armored. She’d never worn anything that didn’t have holes or patches before, but the coat had no imperfections. Then she looked at the rifle, haltingly running her hand over it. It was a professional-looking weapon, a far cry from the hastily cobbled together guns she’d gotten used to using. 

    “What’s this supposed to mean?” she hissed, looking at him accusingly. He had the nerve to be picking at his fingernails as if the two of them were talking about the weather. “You think I can afford these?” Marcy didn’t know what he was trying to pull, but she’d be damned if she’d let herself get suckered in.

    He held up his hands defensively. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said, one eyebrow arched in amusement. Somehow that pissed Marcy off more. “It’s a gift,” he tried.

    “I don’t need your  _ gift _ ,” she spat. She didn’t need his pity and she certainly didn’t want his friendship.

    He put his hands down and sighed. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half-grin. “You’re one of the few people who has the balls to say shit to my face, and I respect the hell outta that.” He nodded toward the coat and gun. “And if I can help you put a hole through a raider’s head, then why shouldn’t I?”

    Marcy couldn’t believe it. There was no trace of dishonesty in his face, just that smug relaxed look he always had. It almost looked like he was impressed with her. “You must be the craziest bastard in the commonwealth,” she said. That really made him grin. 

    “I could be,” he said with a wink. He really must be crazy, Marcy thought with a small amount of awe. With that she watched him flip open a pair of sunglasses and start to pack up his gear. If it was anyone else, she would have wondered where he’d gotten a gun and outfit that were clearly worth a lot of caps. She didn’t wonder where the General got them. From the sound of things, he’d killed enough raiders and other scum to fill Diamond City up to the walls with corpses. Marcy didn’t thank him, but from what he’d told her she didn’t need to. He simply turned his back on her and ambled off to who knows where.

    Laying in bed that night, next to Jun, she rolled over to rest her hand on the barrel of her new gun. It helped, that little bit of extra protection. It was hell feeling weak and powerless, constantly on the run from a strong and ruthless enemy. Marcy doubted she’d ever really feel at ease, even in sanctuary with its fortifications and machine turrets. She’d been burned too badly to ever let her guard down. Still, she thought, as she tried to go back to sleep, maybe the next time shit went south she’d be ready.


End file.
